


PIG

by dirtydeedsdonedirtcheap



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: HPFT, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-19
Updated: 2016-06-19
Packaged: 2018-07-16 02:11:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7247968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dirtydeedsdonedirtcheap/pseuds/dirtydeedsdonedirtcheap
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was a pig in a wig.</p>
            </blockquote>





	PIG

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Anything you recognize belongs to J.K. Rowling. Anything you don’t recognize came from my brain and belongs to me.

It had happened so quickly that Dudley Dursley wasn’t sure if he was actually awake or dreaming. He had to be under a spell. Yes, it was all Harry’s fault. All Harry’s fault because something so unnatural had to be his doing. It wasn’t normal. It wasn’t right.

 

It was cold, so very cold. Dudley was certain his bones were going to freeze over, that a layer of ice was going to coat them and if he made any movement he would shatter.

 

Dudley screamed but he wasn’t sure sound came out of his mouth. It was all in his head. Any moment now he was going to open his blue eyes and he was going to be in his room. He was going to hear the bed creak underneath his weight and his father yelling ‘Boy,’ to get up while Dudley would stay underneath his blankets pretending just for a moment that his life was normal. That just for a moment Harry Potter didn’t exist. The lightning bolt scar that he sometimes saw in his dreams wouldn’t be on the forehead of Harry because there was no such thing as Harry Potter, there were no Potters in the Dursley residence.

 

He couldn’t think. The screaming in his head was getting louder. His mind was splitting, no, his brain was splitting into two and he surely wouldn’t survive.

 

It was his fault, _his_ , that…Harry Potter.

 

Just the thought of the name made Dudley cry out again. He was on the ground in a fetal position as if that would save him. There was something there but at the same time he knew there was nothing there because he couldn’t see anything.

 

You couldn’t believe in what you couldn’t see.

 

Just thinking about Harry filled his body with anger, which should have warmed him, but he was still cold. So very cold. He had to be dead…dead. He was dead. He would not survive.

 

Harry. _Harry_. He hated Harry. The name. His cousin. The freak. Ever since he could remember his parents fought about Harry. It was Harry _this_ and Harry _that_. The _freak_ is in his _freaky_ school, the _freak_ is gone for the year…they didn’t want him back in the house. _He_ didn’t want him back in the house. The house where he lived with his parents. The house he was supposed to grow up in as an only child without any worries. He should have been doted on. He should have been the sole focus but they were always whispering about Harry.

 

_I don’t want him back in the house. I don’t want him back in the house. I don’t…_ they were always fighting.

 

It was the same argument over and over again. He could recite it in his head. He could recite it in his dreams. His bird like mother with her long neck would scrunch her nose and purse her lips as his father would turn red at any names that began with an ‘H.’

 

Dudley groaned on the ground. He shuddered and then he shuddered again. The chill was still there and he squeezed his eyes shut not wanting to witness anything. Harry was there. He was close by or maybe he was further away. He was yelling things and pointing that stick of his in the air. The stick that Dudley was forbidden to see, to talk about or even think of.

 

They called him Dudders…Ickle Diddykins…Dudley, Dudley, Dudley, don’t be nice to your cousin they said. Don’t talk to your cousin. No, no, no. That thing? That lanky thing with the green eyes and lightning bolt scar on his forehead? The green eyes haunted him in his dreams. They were always so sad, lifeless…all he wanted was someone to accept him, to play with him and Dudley wanted….to play with him.

 

No, no, no. It was cold, so cold. He was cold. He was cold to _him_ , to Harry. Harry is a Wizard. Magic? Magic doesn’t exist. It’s in books that girls read and gush over about knights and princes. Books that Dudley would shove away because he never looked like them. He was never as tall, never as lean as the prince. He couldn’t run or wield a sword like a knight. He would never be able to experience a _true love’s kiss_.

 

He was a pig.

 

He was…

 

No! Magic? He was thinking about magic? At this time? At this moment? The moment he was going to die as something…as nothing…leaned over him and tried to take his life away. No, magic should never be thought about. What are you doing Dudley? Why are you waving your hand in the air? WHY ARE YOU WAVING A STICK? _STOP IT! STOP BEING A FREAK! HE’S A FREAK! HE ISN’T YOUR COUSIN_ …he’s your cousin.

 

The anger in his father’s eyes. The sheer terror, the pain from his Mum as she screamed and she screamed. The screams were in his head now. The way they looked at him as if he was one of them. One of the freaks. As if he had m..m…magic in himself. He was just a child, eleven, and Harry had just left and they were still…they were still away from home.

 

The waves were crashing around him.

 

He couldn’t move. He wouldn’t move. He was still on the ground, holding himself as if his life depended on it. He was trying to remember what it felt like before…before what? He didn’t understand what was going on. His arms were clamped over his face. He couldn’t move. He would never move again. It was so cold. So _dark_. Darkness consumed him and he would never experience light again. He would never get to see the sun, that yellow star that he complained about every morning because its rays found their way into his bedroom waking him up for another dismal day.

 

Everything was dark. The sky was dark, it was pitch black, an unnatural black. There were no streetlights on. There were no cars with their headlights or their music coming down their way. Harry was still yelling. He was pushing him, trying to get him to get up but Dudley was lost in another world. In another time. He couldn’t…

 

He was so cold. Thoughts kept swirling in Dudley’s head…

 

He was eleven and he was fat, much fatter than the other kids around him but he was going to grow out of that. It was just baby fat, that’s what his mum said. It was _normal_ , that’s what his father said. It was nothing to worry about, nothing to worry about at all. He resembled a pig, that’s what the other kids had said. The ones who made fun of him, the ones that were older than him. Anger, anger found Dudley wherever he went and he took it out on him, on Harry because it was his fault. It was always Harry’s fault. It was Harry’s fault that he had to leave his home when he was only eleven and drive with his parents down to live on a rock. A _rock_. The water was cold, the waves crashed against the rock and the wind threatened to move the house closer to the edge where the water was. The water was going to consume the house and everything in it. The icy water was going to take Dudley and have him roll away with the waves as if he was nothing, a last thought.

 

A pig in a wig.

 

He was tormented by his peers and even by his cousin. He had accepted it then. He had accepted the way he was because he could still tear his cousin down. He could do anything to Harry and that would make it okay. A bully? No, Harry deserved everything he got. Harry was the problem. Harry never gained any weight. Harry never had to go up a size and secretly hide chocolates and other sweets to eat when no one could see him or hear the wrappers open guiltily. Another sweet, another meal, another size he mysteriously grew out of.

 

The waves crashed against the rock and the lightning flashed as Dudley slept. He couldn’t see it, he refused to see it and to hear it. Nothing was going to happen to him, nothing was…a giant barged in. He was as tall as the door and big, wide, but he wasn’t big or wide like Dudley. He didn’t resemble a pig or have trouble walking. He didn’t huff and he didn’t puff like Dudley did when he walked through a room or up the stairs. No, the giant had a long dark bushy beard and angry brown eyes as he searched for Harry. He was there for Harry…

 

There were letters. Hundreds of letters, thousands of letters and they didn’t make any sense. They swirled around the rooms of Dudley’s childhood home. It was like a tornado of letters. They were going to engulf the house. He had been sure of it as he tried to snatch one and then two in his chubby white hands. _Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_ , that’s where Harry was going to go because his cousin was a wizard. He could do magic.

 

Magic didn’t exist.

 

Magic doesn’t exist.

 

No, no, no. Green light? Flashes? His aunt and uncle died in a car accident. No? They were killed, a dark wizard murdered them and his parents had never told him. His parents had lied to him all these years about this _thing_ that was in his house, this, this… _Harry_. Harry, a savior? He saved all these people. He destroyed a terrible man.

 

No.

 

Harry was a freak. He would always be a freak and Dudley…well, Dudley was fat. He could squish him. His bottom could literally snap his cousin in two if he wanted too (and he did). The giant had given him a pink curly pigtail as if he knew that Dudley was a pig. That deep inside Dudley felt like a pig and now he needed to look like one too. It was as if he knew about the taunting and the name-calling. The way the girls looked at him…like he was this disgusting slob. They averted their eyes when he walked by and shuddered as if he touched him they would get a ‘fat’ disease.

 

But he had been so hungry that night. He was hungry and the cake the giant had made Harry for his birthday had looked so good. The frosting was a light pink and…the tail appeared out of nowhere from his striped pyjama bottoms. The cake wasn’t even good. He wasn’t actually hungry. He was lying to himself. He just couldn’t handle what was going on around him. His father was yelling, his mum was having a fit and Harry would go away.

 

Harry would go away to a freaky school where he flicked a wand and learned spells.

 

Harry would get to leave and Dudley would be forced to stay. Dudley would be forced to stay and deal with the name-calling without his punching bag. Without Harry to relieve his pain and stress on.

 

How could his parents not tell him? Magic was real. No…no Dudley, magic wasn’t real. Don’t use the ‘M,’ word in the house. No Dudley, stop that, stay away from Harry, stay away from the boy, don’t go near him or you might catch his disease.

 

He was so cold. So cold. It was all Harry’s fault. He must have been controlling the weather. _He_ was doing this to him. He was shaking Dudley and trying to bring him to his feet but Dudley wouldn’t move. Dudley refused to move because he didn’t want to face what was over him but nothing was over him because he couldn’t see anything. The only thing, the only person that was standing over him was Harry and Harry was yelling and Harry was trying to save him as he cautiously peeked through his clasped fingers.

 

Harry was holding his wand and he had been shouting things. He had been shouting a _spell_ and he was desperately trying to get Dudley to move. He wanted him to move. He wanted to bring him to safety.

 

But Dudley didn’t want to get up from the ground. He was still so cold. He opened his eyes all the way only to stare right into the green eyes of his cousin. The bright green eyes of Harry who looked concerned and angry at the same time. He was concerned about himself because he wasn’t supposed to do magic. Dudley knew that. That’s why he wasn’t afraid of him. He was angry because…because…what? He didn’t want to save him? He didn’t want to save Dudley?

 

He took a deep breath but he still couldn’t move. His mind was foggy as he tried to concentrate on his muscles. The muscles he had acquired from boxing. The muscles he showed off every chance he got because now not only was he powerful but he was _big_ but in a different way.

 

Everyone was afraid of him…

 

Harry forced him up but Dudley wasn’t seeing the dark sky of the night. He couldn’t see the asphalt of the pavement, the houses or trees. His mind was…elsewhere…

 

The glass vanished right before his eyes. All he wanted was for the snake to get up. To show him something, to move, but it wouldn’t move. It wouldn’t look at him. It was a stupid animal but still, it was his birthday, everything and everyone should have done what he wanted. What he said. He had yelled, _‘Move! Move!’_

 

Harry was yelling again. He was struggling to get Dudley up on his feet, to stand and move forward in the direction of home…

 

Harry was an animal. Harry could _talk_ to animals. The snake had slithered right out where the glass was supposed to be and it had almost bit him. No, Dudley had been lying then and he was lying to himself now. His mum’s shrill screams and his father’s angry red face. He had glared at Harry and grabbed his shoulder so roughly Dudley was sure it would snap.

 

Of course it was Harry’s fault. It was always Harry’s fault. The attention was always on Harry.

 

The girls never looked at Harry either but the boys never talked to him because he was weird. Everyone could feel it, everyone could see that Harry was a freak. It didn’t make Dudley’s life easier. On the contrary, he was related to a freak. He was the freak’s _obese_ cousin.

 

Looks like a pig, round like a pig, pink like a pig…

 

They never batted their eyelashes at him. They never giggled at his jokes. They never told him he had a nice smile…

 

He didn’t want a cousin. He didn’t have a cousin. Harry was lanky, he was skinny and agile. He had seen Harry climb right out a window and he had seen Harry…

 

Dudley couldn’t stop eating. He wouldn’t stop eating. The walk from the kitchen to the living room had become too much for him. Everything around him was crumbling. His parents became angrier each year with the return of Harry. It was as if Harry was a festering pimple that just wouldn’t go away. No matter how hard they picked at him, no matter how hard they picked _on_ him.

 

Then Dudley had five chins. They could have been ten. Maybe they were eleven. He couldn’t stop eating. Bacon every morning for breakfast, biscuits from morning to night, potatoes and meat throughout the day. More bacon, more crispy hot bacon, more, more, more of…everything.

 

He didn’t care about anyone. He didn’t care about anything. He didn’t care about his physical appearance anymore. What was he supposed to care about? Harry was a doorstep. Harry was _nothing_. Dudley was the king. He was the man of the house. His mum doted on him and his father spoiled him.

 

Why was Harry trying to save him? Why was Harry trying to fight to help Dudley stay up on his feet? Why was Harry letting Dudley rest on his body, struggling to bring the two of them home?

 

Flashes of his Aunt Marge being blown up during dinner filled his mind as they made the trek towards the house. He couldn’t make sense of his surroundings. He was seeing instead the kitchen, a place he ate every night and his large Aunt Marge sitting at the table taunting Harry and making a mockery of his dead aunt, someone he never knew, someone he probably would have never cared about.

 

He didn’t care about her now. He didn’t care about his aunt being blown up bigger than a balloon and floating up, up and away. It was Harry and his magic.

 

He was too busy watching television to care. He was watching…

 

He had grown too large one year. He was fat. _Fat_. There was no way around the word. They couldn’t sugar coat it any longer. He was overweight. Always had been. He was suffocating in his clothing. His trousers were splitting at the seam and his shirts, the buttons to his shirts kept popping off and even hit one girl in the eye. They couldn’t even make a size big enough for him for his uniform. He was so ugly. He was so fat and…and miserable. He was so miserable. He always felt worse during the summer when Harry was around. Harry was nothing. Harry was wasting away as he ate his grapefruit and vegetables, the new diet of the house. Food. They called that food? It was torture. They were torturing Dudley because he couldn’t be like him.

 

He couldn’t be thin and he couldn’t move around anymore. Walking was hard…walking was torture…

 

It was hard to walk _now_. His body shivered as Harry held him. His vision was clearing slightly and all Dudley could focus on was the determination on Harry’s face. He wanted to bring him to safety. Harry actually wanted to make sure Dudley was alright. Harry was gritting his teeth and his green eyes were glowing in the night.

 

The first sign of light that Dudley had seen that night…

 

They had red hair. They had red hair and they all looked alike. No, two of them looked alike and they had sweets with them, toffees. He couldn’t eat that anymore and he couldn’t trust the freaks with their freaky candy either but he was greedy and they dropped it to the floor. He was like a pig, snatching it up and devouring it quickly.

 

Even the wrapper.

 

His diet was leading him nowhere.

 

He ate the toffee that was on the floor.

 

And the pig’s tongue grew four feet long.

 

His Mum almost ripped it out of his mouth.

 

But then…things changed. It didn’t happen over night but that’s how it felt. He became a boxing champion in his school. He became muscular more than anything. He was large but now they feared him. He could use his size to his advantage now but still there weren’t many girls. No more shudders but not enough glances.

 

He blinked. His blue eyes finally noticing his surroundings. The sky wasn’t as dark as he thought it was. The air wasn’t as cold as it used to be and there was the sound of bugs that only came out in the night but most importantly he recognized the front door to his home. The white front door and the drawn curtains that his mum constantly pushed to the side to peep through the window and see what the neighbors were up too.

 

Harry was panting and struggling to keep Dudley up as the door opened. Harry was wheezing because he wasn’t strong enough. He wasn’t as muscular as him and he couldn’t handle the pressure of Dudley’s body on his.

 

His mum was screaming at the sight of Dudley.

 

His father was yelling at Harry and questioning him. The blame was being put on Harry. It was Harry’s fault but… _no_ , Harry saved him.

 

He saved him.

 

Harry saved Dudley.

 

Magic saved Dudley.

 

Blame Harry, put the blame on Harry. It was always Harry’s fault. He couldn’t believe what he couldn’t see. No, no, Harry had saved him, no…it was Harry’s fault.

 

He secretly wanted to thank Harry.

 

He _needed_ to thank Harry.

 

He couldn’t thank Harry and when Dudley finally opened his mouth to speak his voice felt foreign to his ears and the memory of the night felt like a distant dream.

 

He _tried_ to thank Harry.

 

He did.

 

But then he said it was Harry’s fault. It was Harry…it was always Harry’s fault and his parents listened to him, his parents didn’t second guess him and they were both so scared and they were both doting on him and making sure he was okay and they both wanted Harry gone once and for all.


End file.
